


Turning

by BrandyFromTheBottle



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Angst, Feels, MILD - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Prison, inaccurate portrayal of the legal system, incarceration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandyFromTheBottle/pseuds/BrandyFromTheBottle
Summary: In another world, Stan leaves with Ford on the adventure of a lifetime. In another world, Stan leaves at the end of summer and is just as homeless as he was forty years ago. In this world, Stanley Pines turns himself in.





	Turning

Summer ends and Stan leaves. He has the “BIGGEST SALE FOR THE MOST MYSTERIOUS REASONS” sale. He clears the gift shop out. He sells the taxidermy to fans or rubes. He has a pretty penny in his pocket as he prepares to leave. Stan is tight smiles and gruff assurances. He leaves the paychecks out labeled ‘Wendy’ and ‘Soos’, and another envelope labeled ‘Sept. Expenses.‘ It covers utilities. (Wendy makes a twisted, angry face. Ford doesn’t know what it means. But, Soos. Soos looks like someone on the sidewalk, begging for help and met with a closed curtain.)

            Ford realizes that he has not owned a home in many decades. He has to ask Soos about bill payments. The man could barely talk through his dry sobbing.

            Stan leaves in the middle of the night--or early morning--like the criminal he is. There is no note, Stan isn’t the type to leave a note. Ford feels a little regret. His brother had wronged him, true, but Ford has spent thirty years adventuring while Stan has made mortgage payments. It felt somehow lopsided. With Stan missing, the shack closed, Stanford Pines could put his own name on and know no one else was wearing it.

            The quiet of Gravity Falls chaffs on Ford. He doesn’t miss the fleeing and fighting. But. He does miss the exploring, the discovering, the learning. There is more to learn in Gravity Falls, of course, but after the bright enthusiasm of the nibblings, his exploration feels cool and almost clinical. It is no longer as enjoyable.

            It is nearly a month before Ford hears his brother’s name again. He is morosely watching the morning news, debating tangling with unicorns again or gnomes. The news is droning until the newswoman perks up with:

            “Previously thought to be deceased, master criminal and notorious conman, Stanley Cassandra Pines has, reportedly, turned himself in after thirty years of remaining at large.”

            She, perhaps, continues. Ford can vaguely hear the list of Stan’s sins. “Turned himself in.” Ford tries to comprehend his charismatic, con of a brother bending to the government. He cannot.

            For a moment Ford thinks he’s in another dimension. It certainly feels surreal, watching grainy footage of his haggard, aged little brother bowed forward, in handcuffs. The news anchors hound him--“Why come forward now?”--and Stan bears it with a grin and quick, charismatic humor--”Tired of paying taxes.” His lawyer just glares at him.

            It seems a petty thing to make into international news. Some two-bit con from Jersey somehow becomes a household name. It’s everything Ford ever wanted through a funhouse mirror. He doesn’t get it. He wants to pull Stan from the bars of a stupid and flawed system to shake some sense into him. He wants to leave Stan to the fate his brother made for himself.

            The news world is shocked and shook to its core--a world without gravity like an earthquake--when they learn that Stanford Pines is actually _Stanley_ Pines, a grifter and con thought to be long dead. The scandal, that he stole his missing brother’s identity to hide from the law, is the juiciest gossip around. (Un)fortunately, there are no living relatives that can identify Stanley or Stanford. So, there is only speculation--the most popular that Stan killed his own brother to avoid the law. Both Stan and Ford mull over this with perverse admiration. The news is not wrong, but they would never understand.

            So, Ford watches his brother’s trial. Watches the accusations pile against Stan and, bizarrely,  some random person coming out of the woodwork to defend Stan’s character. Of course, an equal number attest to Stan’s predilections for the illegal.

            Stan is found guilty. He is sentenced for life. The life expectancy for seniors in prison is dismal.

            Eventually, Ford calls. Ford is tossed from one guard to another until he hears Stanley’s strained but living voice.

            “What?” Stan says, no greeting or preamble. Ford is annoyed. Ford is furious. Ford is in control.

            “What are you doing, Stanley?” He asks, his tone is too reasonable. His voice is too calm.

            “What’s it to you?” Stan asks boredly. Ford bristles, but contains himself.

            “What are you up to?” Ford asks, displeased at his own clipped and tense voice. Stan scoffs.

            “Uh, nothing, not much to do in the prison yard, Ford. Though, I might be able to convince Rico I’ve got something to offer, so, that’s something.”

            Ford is silent, considering and calculating. He is beyond disturbed. His brother, Stan, the great con and endless firecracker, sounds resigned.

            “I mean, not much this old body can do, but maybe these kids will appreciate some experience.” Ford can feel Stan waggling his eyebrows and wants to vomit.

            “S-stop.” Ford says and his voice is much less firm and more desperate. Stan does pause and then makes a sound like a sigh.

            “Yeah, sorry, Sixer. Didn’t mean to make it weird.” Stan says slowly. Ford controls himself to breathe deep and even.

            “What’s your plan, Stanley?” Ford asks, tries to direct the conversation in a direction he could understand. He is met with a long silence and he worries that Stan hung up on him.

            “Uh...I guess, try and get in with one of the bigger gangs. I got some tricks they’ve never seen and they might keep me, but, it’s up in the air.” Ford can feel Stan shrug through his tone and grips the phone in his hand harder. “They got classes, too. I ain’t really one for school and shit, but it’d be nice to finally get that diploma. Ya know, show the kids that even their screw up of a Grunkle can graduate high school.” And, yes, Ford remembers that Stanley never showed up to class after his expulsion from home. A creeping, terrible thought takes seed in Ford’s mind.

            “Stanley,” he begins slowly, trying to find the words. “Stanley, you can’t honestly be...be thinking of...o-of serving your sentence?” It starts as an incredulous statement but falls into a question. Silence, again. Ford can barely hear Stan breathing. “Stanley, you can’t--” but Ford chokes on his words. He knows, of course, that Stan’s been sentenced and it would take something spectacular to get Stan on the outside again. He knows, but Ford is still trying to _understand_ that his little brother that spent _thirty years_ bringing Ford back will probably die in prison. Ford feels his eyes get warm and wet and his face spasms.

            “Ford?” Stan’s voice is nervous and unsure. Stan should never sound like that. Ford, for all his strength, all his experience, cannot internalize this. He makes a sound like a cough and a sob. “Ford!?” Stan’s voice sounds more concerned. Ford laughs wetly, he’s crying for the first time in years.

            “Why?” His voice cracks and Ford wants to be ashamed of that, but now. Now his little brother is talking about gangs and prison like they mean nothing.

            “Why? Ford, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Stan asks and Ford chokes on another sob that makes his ribcage spasm and clench.

            “Why did you do this?” Ford manages to ask, his tears receding like a tide--he knows that they will return soon. The body cannot sustain such anguish for long.

            “Whaddya mean, Ford? You’re losing me.” Stan replies and Ford can hear the fear underneath the words. Ford hates that Stan can pretend that nothing is wrong. He grabs that anger.

            “Why did you give up, you knucklehead? Why’d you do this to the kids? To me?” He asks and he may still be crying, but he’s too hot and angry to care. He hears Stan’s breath pick up.

            “The fuck do you mean, Sixer?” Stan’s voice is dark and lethal, but Ford can’t read the signs.

            “You didn’t have to go to jail, Stanley! You could have just disappeared! You’re good at that!” Ford is almost yelling.

            “Oh, is that it, Sixer? Good ol’ Stan Pines ruining his family’s lives, again! Well, sorry for trying to do the first worthwhile thing in my life, asshole!” And Stan is yelling now. Ford hears a guard ask a question and suddenly, desperately needs Stan to stay on the line.

            “Stan? Stan! Don’t hang up, please! Stan?” Ford pleads and evidently Stan smooth talks the guard away.

            “I ain’t got much time, Stanford, so make it quick.” Stan barks gruffly. Ford swallows thickly.

            “I…I. Stan, I.” Ford can’t. He needs to, but he doesn’t know how.

            “Time’s wasting, Sixer.” Stan growls.

            “I miss you, Stanley.” Ford says, eventually. He hears sharp inhale from the other line but nothing else. Ford feels all the words pour out of him like a lanced blister. “I don’t want you to be in prison. I want you here, with me. I miss you. I didn’t think I did but--” Ford cracks over a mortifying sob. He can’t breathe until he can. “I keep seeing these pictures and, you’re still my little brother. I--I never did right by you, Stan.” And Ford can’t keep the words coming because he can’t breathe around the now dry sobs. He can’t hear much of anything until he hears Stan shouting at the guards.

            “My brother’s having a damn panic attack! You kick me out now and you will be slammed with the lawsuit of the century! Don’t roll your eyes, you know what I can do!” And Ford hears some grumbling and he’s smiling through his tears and ragged breathing because, of course, Stan would do that. Ford takes a deep breath, steels himself.

            “I’m getting you out, Stanley.” He says in his most no-nonsense voice.

            “...You know these things are probably bugged, right, Ford?” Stan says, between bewildered and amused. Ford nods to himself.

            “I’ll see you soon, Stanley.” Ford says, already building what he needs in his mind.

            “Ford, don’t do anything stupid.” Stan warns, genuinely concerned.

            “I love you, Stanley.” Ford says.

            “Ford, I swear to God, I can’t bail you ou--” Stan is cut of as Ford hangs up. He has a lot of work to do.

 

Stan and Ford watch the news eagerly report that the infamous Stanley Pines has escaped his maximum-security prison and is at large. He is considered dangerous and armed. Stan laughs around his cigar, the boat rocks gently around them. Ford smiles softly into his tumbler of scotch. They watch the police scramble and the public murmur. If Stan’s smile falters, then Ford reaches over and pats his shoulder, grabs his hand. It has taken Ford forty years to take care of his little brother. He knows he doesn’t have another forty to make it up--not with Stan’s past and Ford’s own circumstances--so he will make every moment count.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a lot of angsty aus out there, but I wanted to try one I haven't seen before. Like, Stan has a rap sheet that could wrap the globe twice. What if instead of being homeless or suicidal, he decides he'll go to prison. He'll have food, a roof, and even medical care! It wasn't supposed to have a happy ending but, I couldn't.
> 
> Also, un-beta'd, again. So, please point out any mistakes an' shit. This is a lot rougher than I wanted, but, eh.


End file.
